


The Flame

by MadameMeduse



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: #burnout, #emotions, #fluffy, #softgeralt, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: A rather sad shortfiction, dealing with emotional problems and inbalances.---------------------------------------------------------------One night, Geralt finds out why he needs Jaskier to stay.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 42





	The Flame

Jaskier was nineteen years old, Geralt of Rivia thought gloomily and stoked the campfire, ensuring that the body of his human companion would be warm during the night. Red hot sparks tumbled into the sky where distant stars adorned the dark firmament, untouched by city lights or clouds passing by. The air was crisp and clear and the temperature dropped from minute to minute.

Stupid boy, stupid bard. Jaskier should be old enough to know that it was wrong to get involved too much. That the world was a too dangerous place to wear your heart on your sleeves. That giving his all with the expectation of equal receiving was naïve.

But the young man didn’t seem to care und left it to Geralt to deal with the consequences.. His blind trust was a burden the Witcher carried each day they travelled side by side. He had often thought about simply riding away, getting rid of the annoying disturbance of his routine. But he had never done it and often wondered why.

Jaskier’s moods were a constant coming and going, like night and day, a complex interplay that left the Witcher confused and angry every time he was confronted with the impact on his own life.

The young man loved and fucked and drank and gambled, knowing no limits, feeling no shame. Jaskier was bright and flared like a candle whose wick hadn’t been cut, so that the flame tumbled around and devoured too much of the precious wax. Too fast.

And then the bard’s light would fade away. Too heavy the heartbreak and disappointments. Too much love given until nothing was left but a frail body tortured by the aftermath of emotional and physical excesses.

Only darkness and pain remained and it was Geralt’s task to pick up the pieces and mend them again. It wasn’t like the Witcher couldn’t understand.

He had been young, too. A long time ago. He had known Vesemir’s warnings and advices by heart when he had left Kaer Morhen for the first time. He had been desperate to see if there was something out there for him, something worth living for, something that wouldn’t be spoiled by the icy codex of forbidden emotions.

But Vesemir had been right. There was nothing more than this: Follow the Path. Don’t get involved. Don’t feel or you’ll be too weak to serve your purpose.

The Witcher sighed and watched his travel companion toss and shift in his bedroll, unable to sleep peacefully, haunted by dreams of loss and failure. Some days ago, he had asked Jaskier why he was so keen to living his life to the fullest, being aware of the hollowing pain that would inevitably follow. The answer had left Geralt thinking.

_“I could die tomorrow, dear Witcher. I don’t want to pass away without having tried to soak up everything and give everything I have. Even if it tires me from time to time. Even though I burn out too soon. Even though it hurts. The hurt is a part of it, you see? In the end, I would have missed it, as I would have missed the passion and the joy.”_

It was the moment when Geralt had realized that Jaskier was a far stronger man than he had thought. Perhaps even stronger than the Witcher himself, who had shoved away all kind of emotions for years in order to survive, to protect himself. He always had considered Jaskier a bit of a coward, being physically weak, preferring to run but to stand a fight. But at least the bard was willing to take the risk, to reach out over and over again, only to be pushed away repeatedly. It took a very brave man to do that.

Geralt felt that he envied Jaskier for this kind of strength. Even now, the bard being a miserable, curled up figure, closed eyes lined with unshed tears, hair tousled, shoulders heaving, facing another attack of emotions in this dreams.

The night passed by. Jaskier drifted into deeper sleep, shivering in the cold night wind and from mental exhaustion. Geralt waited for the bard’s breathing to even out, then rose, covering the young man his own blankets. A Witcher didn't need them, after all.

But he needed Jaskier in his life. To remind him of the flame that Geralt lost on the Path.

Maybe it was time to light it again.


End file.
